Having now got the printing-office in his own hands, Ben began to find
the unspeakable advantage of his past labours to acquire ideas, and to
convey them handsomely by his pen. The town and country getting at this
time prodigiously excited about a PAPER CURRENCY, Ben came out with a
most luminous pamphlet, on "THE ADVANTAGES and DISADVANTAGES of a PAPER
CURRENCY." The pamphlet gave such satisfaction to the legislature, that
they rewarded him with the _printing_ of all their money bills. His
pamphlet producing the same effect on the legislature of Delaware, they
rewarded him in the same way--as also did both these legislatures by
throwing into his way several other jobs of public printing.
Money now coming in, he went at once, and paid his good friends Coleman
and Grace what they had so nobly lent him. With a light heart he then
wiped off that old score of VERNON'S, which had given him so much
uneasiness, but which now receipted in _full_, _principal_ and
_interest_, made him feel himself the freest, and therefore the
happiest man in Pennsylvania. Money still coming in, he fitted up a few
shelves in the front room of his printing-office, where he spread out
an assortment of Books, Blanks, Paper and Quills; but all in the small
way--for he always thought, that though
"Vessels large may venture more,
Yet little boats should keep near shore."
Like a ship that after long tacking against winds and tides, through
dangerous straits and shallows, has at last got safely out on the main
ocean flood, and at liberty to lay her own course; such was now the
condition of Ben; who hereupon felt it his duty immediately to take on
board those two grand guides and guardians of his voyage--RELIGION and
a GOOD WIFE.
As to religion--the grum looks and bitter sectarian animosities of the
christians in those wretched days, had early made a deist of him; and
he, in turn, had made deists of others, as Collins and Ralph. But on
coming to test the thing by its fruits, he found that this new religion
(deism) was not yet the religion he could admire. He found that poor
Collins, with all his deism, was but a drunkard--Ralph, an ungrateful
swindler--governor Keith, a great rascal--and even himself, though a
prime deist, yet in his treatment of Miss Read, as culpable as any of
them all. This led him to a train of thought which resulted in the
conclusion, that though he could not conceive that _bad actions are
bad, merely because revelation forbids them; nor good actions good,
because revelation enjoins them_: yet he doubted not but the former
were forbidden, because they are _hurtful_, and the latter enjoined
because they are _beneficial_ to us--all things considered. On this
grand principle then, the inseparable connexion between VICE and
MISERY, and VIRTUE and HAPPINESS, he determined from that day to shun
the one, and embrace the other; thus summing up his religion in those
beautiful lines:--
"What CONSCIENCE dictates to be done,
Or warns me not to do;
This teach me more than HELL to shun,
That more than HEAVEN pursue."
So much for his religion. As to his wife, his behaviour in this respect
seems to have shown that there was some substance in the religious
ground he had taken. Having, at the time of his sad disappointment in
London, and when he despaired of ever marrying her, neglected his old
sweetheart Miss Read, he resolved, now that he was getting into better
circumstances, to make her all the amends in his power. 'Tis true, her
mother, who had prevented the marriage before he set off for England,
and during his absence had prevailed on her to marry another lover, was
most in fault, and actually acquitted him, laying the blame altogether
at her own door.--But Ben never acquitted himself; he felt condemned,
and would therefore accept no _absolution_ while he could make
_reparation_. He renewed his visits to the family, who were rejoiced to
see him. He saw his old sweetheart, Miss Read; but O how altered from
her who, formerly bright with love and joy, used to fly to the door to
welcome his coming! How altered from her, whose rosy cheeks crimsoned
with blushes, he so fondly kissed at taking leave for England, with
sweetest promises of speedy return and blissful marriage. Pale and wan
were her looks, where she sat silent, and retired, and often deeply
sighing, like one much troubled in mind, or crossed in hopeless love.
She never reminded him of his "_troth and broken vows_." But such
patient suffering served but the more to harrow up his feelings. Each
stifled sigh sounded in his ear as a death bell; and each tender glance
carried a point keener than the lightning's fork. In a word, his heart
was completely torn, and he had wisdom to seek its only
cure--_reconciliation with the injured_. 'Tis true, pride whispered
that Miss Read, having treated him with great disrespect by marrying in
his absence, ought to be _punished_. But how could he think of revenge
on a poor girl, whom his own neglect had driven to that desperate act!
Avarice, too, remonstrated against marrying a woman, whose last husband
had left debts which he might be ruined to pay. But Ben felt resolved,
that as he had rendered this dear woman unhappy, he would restore her
peace, whatever might be the cost. As the coming forth of the sun after
clouds, such was the shining of conscious virtue on Ben's face, after
such noble resolving. As a flower after long mourning its absent sun,
rejoices again in his returning beams; so the soul of Miss Read
rejoiced in the smiles of her returning lover. The hearts of her aged
parents revived with the cheerful rose once more blooming on her pallid
cheek; and heaven itself shed choicest blessings on their happy union.
No debts of the former husband were ever exhibited against them. No foe
was permitted to triumph. And while old Keimer, after all his roguery,
was fain to run away from his creditors to the West Indies, where he
died in poverty--and while his successor, Harry, elated with a puff of
prosperity, and affecting the FINE GENTLEMAN, soon came out at the
little end of the horn, Ben and his lovely bride, going on in their
virtuous toils, prospered together like twin trees planted by the
rivers of water. Lured by her pleasant looks, the book-store, over
which she presided, was constantly thronged; and equally pleased with
the neatness and fidelity of his printing, Ben's press was always at
work. Happy in the tender wish to please, "each was to the other a
dearer self." And whether their duties called them to the kitchen, the
book-store, or the printing-office, they still found, in their mutual
love, that divine cordial which lightened every burden and sweetened
every care. Their table, though frugal, was delicious, because seasoned
with smiles of mutual fondness. And doubly welcome the return of night,
where Hymen, unreproved, had lighted up his sacred torch; and where
pressed to the soft bosom of his affectionate spouse, the happy husband
could take his fill of pure connubial bliss, without remorse or dread
of danger. Such were the benefits which Ben derived from his generous
dealings with the afflicted Miss Read; and as a farther reward, it was
in this self same year, that Ben was enabled to _incorporate_ his grand
library-company.
This first of social blessings, a PUBLIC LIBRARY, was set on foot by
Franklin, about the year 1731. Fifty persons subscribed forty shillings
each, and agreed to pay ten shillings annually. The number increased;
and in 1742, the company was incorporated, by the name of "The Library
Company of Philadelphia." It now contains eight thousand volumes on all
subjects, a philosophical apparatus, and a good beginning towards a
collection of natural and artificial curiosities. The company have
lately built an elegant house in Fifth street, on the front of which is
erected a marble statue of their founder, Benjamin Franklin.[2]
[2] The gift of William Bingham, Esq.
The beneficial influence of this institution was soon evident. The
cheapness of terms rendered it accessible to every one. Hence a degree
of information was extended among all classes of people, which is very
unusual in other places. The example was soon followed. Libraries were
established in various places, and they are now become very numerous in
the United States, and particularly in Pennsylvania. It is to be hoped,
that they will be _still more widely extended_, and that information
will be every where increased. This will be the best security for our
liberties. _A nation who has been taught to know and prize the rights
which God has given them, cannot be enslaved. It is in the regions of
ignorance alone that tyranny reigns._
In 1732, Franklin began to publish POOR RICHARD'S ALMANAC.
The eloquent Charles Fox used to say, that had Doctor Franklin written
nothing else, his "Poor Richard's Almanac" were alone sufficient to
immortalize him. Instead of being taken up, as too many Almanacs are,
with trifling stories and fool-born jests, it abounds with the finest
maxims on Industry, Temperance, and Frugality, thrown together with
astonishing conciseness, and written with that happy mixture _of
gravity_ and gaiety that captivates every body, and never tires. It
took a wonderful run. From 10 to 15,000 a year were generally sold in
Pennsylvania. And to this Almanac, in a considerable measure, may be
ascribed that wonderful start which Pennsylvania has taken of the
middle and southern states in all the REPUBLICAN VIRTUES, of INDUSTRY
and ECONOMY, which point the WAY to WEALTH.
Even the finest girls there, worth their thousands, don't think it
beneath them, to "_lay hold on the distaff_," like Solomon's
accomplished daughter, to swell the riches of the family _wardrobe_ and
to improve the _savoury dishes_ of their parents.
A foppish young fortune-hunter from the south, ventured sometime ago to
pay his respects to the beautiful Miss Dickenson, one of the first
fortunes in the state. Instead of finding her, as he had expected, idly
lolling in a room of state, and bedizened in ribbands and laces, like a
fairy queen, he found her attired in that simple dress of exquisite
neatness which best sets off the rosy freshness of youthful beauty; and
he found her, too, busied in some piece of domestic industry. He
blushed to find her "_at work_!" After a world of compliments, all
tending to make her out far too _divine a creature_ for such
disparaging employments, he gave her to understand that she should not
thus demean herself if she were in Carolina.
"_What!_" replied she, with sarcastic pleasantry, "_don't the young
ladies with you, read_ POOR RICHARD'S ALMANAC?"
Thus was this little annual visitor of Doctor Franklin's, a general
blessing to the Pennsylvanians, making them all fond of industry. And
Jacob did not more naturally beget Joseph and his twelve brethren than
does industry beget INNOCENCE, and HEALTH, and WEALTH, and
CHEERFULNESS, and all that lovely train of virtues, which tend to make
men happy by driving away their vices. For who, for example, will ever
get drunk who has no _debts_ nor _duns_ nor vices of any sort to make
him _uneasy_? And who will ever _sell his birthright_ of an _honest
vote_ for an electioneering dinner and a drink of grog, when he has
fatted calves and wine of his own at home? This is Pennsylvania all
over.
In the Almanac for the last year that doctor Franklin ever published,
he compressed the choicest sentiments of all the preceding editions,
and entitled it "THE WAY TO WEALTH." It is not easy to do justice to
this little work. American writers need not eulogize it. The British,
and even the French into whose language it was quickly translated, have
paid it the most flattering attention. Doctor Knox gave it a place in
his "ELEGANT EXTRACTS;" and Lewis XV. on hearing it read, was so
charmed with the admirable sense and humour of Poor Richard, that he
gave orders for a new frigate, just launching, to be named, in honour
of this famous nosegay of Franklin's, LE BON HOMME RICHARD, or "POOR
RICHARD." I have heard nothing of this frigate or of any exploits of
her's, while she was a new ship, and in the French service. But this I
know, that in her latter days she was covered over with glory. This was
the ship on which that gallant Scot, Paul Jones, hoisted the American
flag in the great war of the revolution. Though the Poor Richard
mounted but 36 guns, and was old and crazy besides, yet her commander
had the audacity to carry her alongside of the SERAPIS, a British 44,
and a new ship. It is true, the Alliance, an American frigate of the
smallest class, was in company with the POOR RICHARD; but as Jones and
his officers all declare, rendered him no assistance whatever. But
though thus basely deserted by her consort in the hour of conflict with
a mightier foe, yet did not the POOR RICHARD despair, but bravely
grappled with her enemy at once, and after one of the bloodiest
contests recorded in history, gloriously succeeded in hauling down her
colours. The Poor Richard, however, but barely survived this dreadful
four hours' conflict with such a heavy adversary. For as if only
waiting to see the modest stars of liberty waving where the proud jack
of tyranny had waved before, she bowed her head beneath a mountainous
billow and went down--the glorious tomb of many of her gallant crew,
embalmed, for dear liberty's sake, in their own heart's blood.
As the reader might think it hard, after so much said about it to whet
his curiosity, if we did not give him a squint at this famous "POOR
RICHARD'S ALMANAC," we hasten now to do ourselves the pleasure to lay
it before him, in the last and best form wherein doctor Franklin gave
it to the public, and under the same title, viz. "THE WAY TO WEALTH,"
or "POOR RICHARD," _improved_--which runs thus:--
COURTEOUS READER,
I have heard that nothing gives an author so great pleasure as to find
his works respectfully quoted by others. Judge, then, how much I must
have been gratified by an incident I am going to relate to you. I
stopped my horse lately, where a great number of people were collected
at an auction of merchant's goods. The hour of the sale not being come,
they were conversing on the badness of the times; and one of the
company called to a plain, clean old man, with white locks, "Pray,
father Abraham, what think you of the times? Will not these _heavy
taxes_, quite ruin the country? How shall we be ever able to pay them?
What would you advise us to do?" Father Abraham stood up, and replied,
"If you would have my advice, I will give it you in short; 'for a word
to the wise is enough,' as poor Richard says." They joined in desiring
him to speak his mind, and gathering round him, he proceeded as
follows:--
Friends, said he, the taxes are, indeed, very heavy; and, if those laid
on by the government, were the only ones we had to pay, we might more
easily discharge them; but we have many others, and much more grievous
to some of us. We are taxed twice as much by our _idleness_, three
times as much by our _pride_, and four times as much by our _folly_;
and from these taxes the commissioners cannot ease or deliver us, by
allowing an abatement. However let us hearken to good advice, and
something may be done for us; "God helps them that help themselves," as
poor Richard says.
I. It will be thought a hard government that should tax its people
one tenth part of their time, to be employed in its service: but
idleness taxes many of us much more; sloth, by bringing on diseases,
absolutely shortens life. "Sloth, like rust, consumes faster than
labour wears, while the used key is always bright," as poor Richard
says. "But dost thou love life, then do not squander time, for that is
the stuff life is made of," as poor Richard says. How much more than is
necessary do we spend in sleep? forgetting that the sleeping fox
catches no poultry, and that "there will be sleeping enough in the
grave," as poor Richard says.
"If time be of all things the most precious, wasting time must be," as
poor Richard says, "the greatest prodigality;" since, as he elsewhere
tells us, "lost time is never found again; and what we call time
enough, always proves little enough;" let us then up and be doing, and
doing to the purpose; so by diligence shall we do more with less
perplexity. "Sloth makes all things difficult, but industry all easy;
and he that riseth late, must trot all day, and shall scarce over take
his business at night; while laziness travels so slowly, that poverty
soon overtakes him. Drive thy business, let not that drive thee; and
early to bed and early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise,"
as poor Richard says.
So what signifies wishing and hoping for better times? we may make
these times better, if we bestir ourselves. "Industry need not wish,
and he that lives upon hope will die fasting. There are no gains
without pains; then, help hands for I have no lands," or if I have they
are smartly taxed. "He that hath a trade, hath an estate; and he that
hath a calling, hath an office of profit and honour," as poor Richard
says; but then the trade must be worked at, and the calling well
followed, or neither the estate nor the office will enable us to pay
our taxes. If we are industrious, we will never starve; for at the
working man's house, "hunger looks in but dares not enter." Nor will
the bailiff or the constable enter, for "industry pays debts, while
despair increaseth them." What, though you have found no treasure, nor
has any rich relation left you a legacy, "diligence is the mother of
good luck, and God gives all things to industry. Then plough deep while
sluggards sleep, and you shall have corn to sell and to keep."
"Work while it is called to-day, for you know not how much you may be
hindered to-morrow. One to-day is worth two to-morrows," as poor
Richard says; and farther, "never leave that till to-morrow, which you
can do to-day." If you were a servant, would you not be ashamed that a
good master should catch you idle? Are you then your own master? be
ashamed to catch yourself idle when there is so much to be done for
yourself, your family, your relations, and your country. Handle your
tools without mittens: remember that "the cat in gloves catches no
mice," as poor Richard says. It is true, there is much to be done, and,
perhaps, you are weak-handed; but stick to it steadily, and you will
see great effects; for "constant dropping wears away stones; and by
diligence and patience the mouse ate in two the cable; and little
strokes fell great oaks."
Methinks I hear some of you say, "must a man afford himself no
leisure?" I will tell thee, my friend, what poor Richard says; "employ
thy time well, if thou meanest to gain leisure; and, since thou art not
sure of a minute, throw not away an hour. Leisure is time for doing
something useful; this leisure the diligent man will obtain, but the
lazy man never; for, a life of leisure and a life of laziness are two
things. Many, without labour would live by their wits only, but they
break for want of stock: whereas industry gives comfort, and plenty,
and respect. Fly pleasures, and they will follow you. The diligent
spinner has a large shift; and now I have a sheep and a cow, every body
bids me good-morrow."
II. But with our industry, we must likewise be steady, settled and
careful, and oversee our own affairs with our own eyes, and not trust
too much to others; for, as poor Richard says,
"I never saw an oft removed tree, Nor yet an oft removed family,
That throve so well as those that settled be."
And again, "three removes are as bad as a fire;" and again, "keep thy
shop, and thy shop will keep thee;" and again, "if you would have your
business done, go; if not, send." And again,
"He that by the plough would thrive,
Himself must either hold or drive."
And again, "the eye of a master will do more work than both his
hands;" and again, "want of care does us more damage than want of
knowledge:" and again, "not to oversee workmen is to leave them your
purse open." Trusting too much to others' care is the ruin of many;
for, "in the affairs of this world, men are saved, not by faith, but
by the want of it; but a man's own care is profitable;" for, "if you
would have a faithful servant, and one that you like, serve yourself.
A little neglect may breed great mischief; for want of a nail the shoe
was lost; for want of a shoe the horse was lost; and for want of a
horse the rider was lost, being overtaken and slain by the enemy: all
for want of a little care about a horse-shoe nail."
III. So much for industry, my friends, and attention to one's own
business; but to these we must add frugality, if we would make our
industry more certainly successful. A man may, if he knows not how to
save as he gets, "keep his nose all his life to the grindstone, and
die not worth a groat at last. A fat kitchen makes a lean will;" and,
"Many estates are spent in the getting,
Since women for tea forsook spinning and knitting,
And men for punch forsook hewing and splitting."
If you would be wealthy, think of saving as well as of getting. The
Indies have not made Spain rich because her outgoes are greater than
her incomes.
Away then with your expensive follies, and you will not then have so
much cause to complain of hard times, heavy taxes, and chargeable
families; for,
"Women and wine, game and deceit,
Make the wealth small, and the want great."
And farther, "what maintains one vice will bring up two children." You
may think, perhaps, that a little tea, or a little punch now and then,
diet a little more costly, clothes a little finer, and a little
entertainment now and then, can be no great matter; but remember, "many
a little makes a mickle." Beware of little expenses; "a small leak will
sink a great ship," as poor Richard says; and again, "who dainties
love, shall beggars prove;" and moreover, "fools make feasts, and wise
men eat them." Here you are all got together to this sale of fineries
and nicknacks. You call them _goods_, but if you do not take care they
will prove _evils_ to some of you. You expect they will be sold cheap,
and, perhaps, they may, for less than they cost; but, if you have no
occasion for them, they must be dear to you. Remember what poor Richard
says, "buy what thou hast no need of, and ere long thou shalt sell thy
necessaries." And again, "at a great pennyworth pause awhile;" he means
that perhaps the cheapness is apparent only, and not real or the
bargain, by straitening thee in thy business, may do thee more harm
than good. For in another place he says, "many have been ruined by
buying great pennyworths." Again, "it is foolish to lay out money in a
purchase of repentance:" and yet this folly is practised every day at
auctions, for want of minding the Almanac. Many a one, for the sake of
finery on the back, have gone with a hungry belly, and half starved
their families; "silks and sattins, scarlet and velvets, put out the
kitchen fire," as poor Richard says. These are not the necessaries of
life, they can scarcely be called the conveniences: and yet only
because they look pretty, how many want to have them. By these, and
other extravagances, the genteel are reduced to poverty, and forced to
borrow of those whom they formerly despised, but who through industry
and frugality have maintained their standing; in which case it appears
plainly, that "a ploughman on his legs is higher than a gentleman on
his knees," as poor Richard says. Perhaps they have had a small estate
left them, which they knew not the getting of: they think "it is day,
and will never be night;" that a little to be spent out of so much is
not worth minding: but "always taking out of the meal-tub, and never
putting in, soon comes to the bottom," as poor Richard says; and then,
"when the well is dry, they know the worth of water." But this they
might have known before, if they had taken his advice. "If you would
know the value of money, go and try to borrow some; for he that goes a
borrowing goes a sorrowing," as poor Richard says; and, indeed, so does
he that lends to such people, when he goes to get it again. Poor Dick
farther advises, and says,
"Fond pride of dress is sure a very curse,
Ere fancy you consult, consult your purse."
And again, "pride is as loud a beggar as want, and a great deal more
saucy." When you have bought one fine thing, you must buy ten more,
that your appearance may be all of a piece; but poor Dick says, "it is
easier to suppress the first desire, than to satisfy all that follow
it." And it is as truly folly for the poor to ape the rich, as for the
frog to swell to equal the ox.
"Vessels large, may venture more, But little boats should keep near
shore."
It is, however, a folly soon punished; for, as poor Richard says,
"pride breakfasted with plenty, dined with poverty, and supped with
infamy." And, after all, of what use is this pride of appearance, for
which so much is risked, so much is suffered? It cannot promote health,
nor ease pain; it makes no increase of merit in the person, it creates
envy, it hastens misfortune.
But what madness must it be to run in debt for these superfluities? We
are offered, by the terms of this sale, six months credit; and that,
perhaps, has induced some of us to attend it, because we cannot spare
the ready money, and hope now to be fine without it. But ah! think what
you do when you run in debt; you give to another power over your
liberty. If you cannot pay at the time, you will be _ashamed to see
your creditor_; you will _be in fear when you speak to him_; you will
make _poor, pitiful, sneaking excuses_, and by degrees, come to _lose
your veracity_, and sink into _base, downright lying_; for "the second
vice is lying, the first is running in debt," as poor Richard says; and
again, to the same purpose, "lying rides on debt's back;" whereas a
free American ought not to be ashamed, nor afraid to see or speak to
any man living. But poverty often deprives a man of all spirit and
virtue. "It is hard for an empty bag to stand upright." What would you
think of that nation, or of that government, who should issue an edict,
forbidding you to dress like a gentleman or gentlewoman, on pain of
imprisonment or servitude? Would you not say that you were free; have a
right to dress as you please, and that such an edict would be a breach
of your privileges, and such a government tyrannical? And yet you are
about to put yourself under that tyranny when you run into debt for
such a dress! your creditor has authority, at his pleasure, to deprive
you of your liberty, by confining you in jail for life, or by selling
you for a servant, if you should not be able to pay him: when you have
got your bargain, you may perhaps think little of payment; but as poor
Richard says, "creditors have better memories than debtors; creditors
are a superstitious set, great observers of set days and times." The
day comes round before you are aware, and the demand is made before you
are prepared to satisfy it; or, if you bear your debt in mind, the
term, which, at first seemed so long, will, as it lessens, appear
extremely short; time will seem to have added wings to his heels, as
well as his shoulders. "Those have a short Lent, who owe money at
Easter." At present, perhaps, you may think yourself in thriving
circumstances, and that you can bear a little extravagance without
injury; but,
"For age and want save while you may,
No morning suns last the whole day."
Gain may be temporary and uncertain, but ever while you live, expense
is constant and certain; and "it is easier to build two chimneys, than
to keep one in fuel," as poor Richard says: so "rather go to bed
supperless, than rise in debt."
"Get what you can, and what you get, hold, 'Tis the stones that will
turn lead into gold."
And when you have got the philosopher's stone, sure you will no longer
complain of bad times, or the difficulty of paying taxes.
IV. This doctrine of my friend's is reason and wisdom; but after all,
do not depend too much upon your own industry and frugality, and
prudence, though excellent things; for they may all be blasted without
the blessing of heaven; and therefore ask that blessing humbly, and be
not uncharitable to those that at present seem to want it, but comfort
and help them. Remember Job suffered, and was afterwards prosperous.
And now to conclude, "experience keeps a dear school, but fools will
learn in no other," as poor Richard says, and scarce in that; for it is
true, "we may give advice, but we cannot give conduct;" however,
remember this, "they that will not be counselled cannot be helped;" and
farther, that "if you will not hear reason, she will surely wrap your
knuckles," as poor Richard says.
Thus the old gentleman ended his harangue. The people heard it and
approved the doctrine, and immediately practised the contrary, just as
if it had been a common sermon; for the auction opened, and they began
to buy extravagantly. I found the good man had thoroughly studied my
Almanacs, and digested all I had dropt on those topics during the
course of twenty-five years. The frequent mention he made of me must
have tired any one else; but my vanity was wonderfully delighted with
it, though I was conscious, that not a tenth part of the wisdom was my
own, which he ascribed to me; but rather the gleanings that I had made
of the sense of all ages and nations. However I resolved to be the
better for the echo of it; and though I had at first determined to buy
stuff for a new coat, I went away, resolved to wear my old one a little
longer. Reader, if thou wilt do the same, thy profit will be as great
as mine. I am, as ever thine to serve thee.
RICHARD SAUNDERS.